Mirrors
by Hinano Kinsuke
Summary: [Fubuki AtsuyaxReader] No matter how hard he tried, he still couldn't fight it. The feeling... Of wanting to be alive again. [DISCONTINUED]


**Thanks KyouTenTai. You might not realize it, but you've inspired me to write a new story. **

* * *

**One**

.

It was kind of hot but clammy from the early morning rain, and the seats were wet with rainwater and dewdrops. The match between Raimon and a lesser school, as what the kids called, had reached the first half, in which Raimon managed to lead two points ahead. Thanks to their persistence and the spirit of never giving up, they always win the champion title, no matter who their opponents are.

You had expected the outcome of the match; Raimon would take over the game in the blink of an eye. The question was just how far can they go? 10 to 0? 20 to 0? That's what made the match worth watching.

Especially considering the fact that they had just recruited a new striker from Hokkaido named Fubuki Shirou. A genteel boy he was. He looked quite weak, with a little softness around the eyes and a petite frame. But to a certain point, that softness turned monstrous, sometimes it was as if he had just changed into _somebody else._ His dull grey eyes would turn bright yellow as if burning with hellfire, and his techniques and plays made a turn of 360 degrees into _something else entirely_.

If Fubuki was suffering from dissociative identity disorder, you couldn't be the only one to notice it because it was just bloody obvious.

You took out your video camera and pressed the recording button, focusing the lens on the said boy. He seemed normal in the beginning, running around and larking about with his teammates. That continued until they were pressured with two consecutive goals from the opponent on the last minute, making the score 2-2. The atmosphere dramatically tensed up as Raimon tried to get hold of the situation.

That was when _it happened._

Fubuki stole the ball from the opposing team's midfielder, disconnecting their pass. He then kept the ball in his possession and dribbled past the opponent's defense line. Someoka caught up with him, desperately trying to lend him a helping hand, but he moved forward and took a stance before shooting the ball with his renowned special technique, _Eternal Blizzard_. His shot miraculously broke through the goalkeeper's block hissatsu.

The game then ended with the score 3-2, dubbing Raimon as the victor of the match.

You finally heaved a sigh of relief after 90 minutes tugging at your seat, battling with your own emotions. Nothing could make you tingled with excitement other than a good, breathtaking soccer match, with Endou and his friends putting up a real, heated fight in the field. This was exactly what they say, never play with fire, or you'll get burnt.

As you struggled to exit the stadium with a big crowd surrounding you, you replayed and watched the video of Raimon's recent games from the small screen of your camera. You observed how Fubuki skillfully took the ball from Someoka, and how he kept it in his possession until he reached the goalpost. You absentmindedly let out a dreamy sigh as he yelled, 'Eternal Blizzard!' and spun the ball in air before performing his frozen kick, which overpowered the goalkeeper's catch hissatsu.

_Fubuki looked really cool when he was trying hard…_ But there was something about the video that bugged you a lot, making your hair stand at the back of your neck each time you think about it. When he returned to his position, he looked straightly at you through the screen and smirked evilly, as if he knew that you had been probing him all this while.

Was this just a coincidence? Or was he _really_ looking at you?

As curiosity got the best of you, you checked on the previous videos, and guess what? The same thing happened.

This got you worrying over trivial matters when you reached home. Were the doors and windows locked? Even if they were, could they be broken with a soccer ball? Did you just see something with bright yellow eyes under your bed?

Because for the first time in your whole life, you were afraid of a _soccer player._

* * *

"(f/n)!" your mom chided desperately as she shook your shoulders. "(f/n)! For the love of soccer, wake up!"

You opened your eyes groggily and sat upright as you rubbed both of your eyes. Did anyone mention _soccer? Now I know where I've inherited my love towards soccer… _you thought absentmindedly.

"How long… Have I been sleeping?" you asked your mother, trying hard to regain your sight. Everything seemed to have doubled.

"It's almost midnight and you've missed dinner time," she said worriedly. "Come down and have supper…"

You blinked your eyes twice and looked at your mom as she left the room, muttering something about snacks and leftovers under her breath. Darkness soon took over your room again as she shut the door tightly.

So you've been sleeping right after you returned from the soccer match and had missed dinner time.

Oddly enough, _you weren't hungry. _Instead, you felt all weak and numb, despite the long slumber you had since afternoon.

You stood up and went to the bathroom to wash your face. Although the temperature seemed to drop dramatically that night, you were sweating in your shirt, and not to mention how sticky your palms were. As you stared at your own reflection in the mirror, you couldn't make out the figure you saw. She looked terribly awful, with frizzy hair that looked out of place and dark panda circles around her eyes.

Apparently… She was you.

Turning on the tap, you splashed the cold water on your face thrice, hoping that it could wash away the ugliness.

But when you looked into the mirror again as you mopped your cheeks with your face towel, you almost leaped behind and topple right into the bath tub. You could've broken your arms and injured your head if you didn't have good reflexes… Because you saw a ghostly boy standing behind you, wearing an eerie smirk on his face. As familiar as he may seem, he had rather spiky, reddish-colored hair with a pair of menacing, sharp eyes. _Could he be…?_

When you turned around, he just chuckled and disappeared into thin air.

"Who are you?!" you yelled, grabbing your scissors from the rack and pointing them in midair. "Show yourself!"

"In the mirror," he whispered.

You felt a pair of strong arms wrapping themselves around your waist, and the indents on your shirt slowly overlapped. They were invisible, but you knew they were real. _Someone_ was behind you, breathing against your skin, because you could feel gusts of chilly air brushing near your ear… Which then descended down to the crook of your neck, making you shudder in horror.

It was cold. Heavy and lifeless. _Absolutely not the breathing of a human being. _

"In the mirror, (f/n)," he said again.

You lifted your gaze off your waist and stared into the now fogged mirror. You realized that you were neatly enveloped in his tight embrace, with his lips just inches away from your cheek. He then planted a soft, airy kiss on the edge of your lips, which felt unusually cold on your skin… Like ice. _Like the dead._

"Can you see me now?" he asked in his hushed voice and smiled; a rather mischievous smile that sent shivers down your spine.

"What… are you? Why are you here? How did you get in?"

"Ara," he said sarcastically. "You watched me. So why can't I watch you, (f/n)?"

He tightened the embrace, making you whimper. "Are you…?"

"Fubuki Atsuya," he muttered under his breath. "Fubuki Shirou's dead-and-gone brother. Which was why you could only see me in the mirror."

You broke into cold sweat. The next thing you knew was your head met with the cold hard floor, and the pain in your limbs soon took over your consciousness.

* * *

**You're gonna live with a ghost from now on. **


End file.
